Bras, Dreamcatchers and Other Strange Mutations
by 95Echelon
Summary: Or the one in which Bella turns into a werewolf and Jacob is very, very okay with that. (Edward is less so.)
1. Friday, Morning

Or the one in which Bella is a werewolf and Jacob is very, very okay with that.

* * *

 **Friday, Morning**

Bella doesn't figure out what the smell is until fourth period Biology. Which, you know, _awkward._

She'd woken up to it, that morning, the stench of rotten peaches and cloying, overripe apples itching her nostrils like angry hornets. But, you know, whatever, she'd shrugged it off. Wondered idly when she'd last taken out the trash.

"Can you _smell_ that?" she'd mumbled into her pillow, angling her mouth away from Edward. Morning breath was the flipping _worst._

 _"_ You can too?" He'd sounded surprised.

"Whatever, mister," she'd muttered, not even really annoyed, poking his distressingly perfect shin with her cold, cold foot. "Just because I'm human doesn't mean I don't have a _nose_."

And then she'd curled into her duvet, begged him to wake her in 5 more minutes and gone right back to sleep. (He'd muttered something about 'stinks like wet dog', but Edward was always weird in the mornings. Bella had ignoring him before tea down to a science.)

The smell was barely noticeable in the cab of her truck, and when she rolled down her windows, it was... Actually. _Wow_.

 _Wow._

Driving with the windows down was _amazing_ _ **why hadn't she been doing this before?**_

English was fun - mostly because Angela hated Sylvia Plath with the fiery passion of a thousand suns, and had opinions about _everything._

 _('Rises up to her day after day, like a terrible fish,'_ oh my goodness Bella, I'll _gut_ her like a dead fish, what a shallow _hag_. This woman is the embodiment of _every_ gender biased problem we have to deal with, and if she was still alive today, she wouldn't **goddamn** stay alive much longer, you feel me?)

Calculus is, well, calculus. Bella stumbles through it, and tries to fade into the background with limited success. (Mrs. G does call on her once, but Mike is too busy flirting with a very pink, very giggly Braeden, so Bella's going to just count that as a win. She needs her wins.)

And then there's Biology and Edward walks in and everything is _fine_ until he enters, but then he _does_ enter and Bella legitimately _can't. Flipping._ _ **Breathe.**_

It's. Just. There aren't. It just smells _**bad.**_ Like the smell of rotting, too-sweet bananas overlaying burnt rubber and rancid meat. **_Bad_** **.**

She turns predictably green, and Mr. Banner, after a quick look at her face, is only too happy to let her go. When she's leaving the classroom, she glances back, for the breadth of a millisecond, and sees Edward's face, shocked, wide-eyed.

His eyes are as black as night.

* * *

A/n: I'm physically incapable of writing long-ass chapter okay? Deal.  
Also, please fucking review, I need it like breathing. (Ha. What is dignity. I'll beg, sure.)

(Oh and the Plath poem is 'Mirror'. A horrible, horrible poem, by a horrible, horrible general failure of a human. One of my best friends _loves_ Plath - I am left seriously questioning our relationship on a daily basis.)

Update: I have realized that, by happy coincidence, this story's title abbreviates to BDOSM. There is, sadly, no BDSM is the story. (But, if Bella's lucky, she might find the O.)


	2. Friday, Lunch

**Friday, Lunch**

* * *

"I can't see her!"  
"What?!"  
"I can't- She's- There's nothing, Edward! Nothing _there!"  
_ _"What does that mean?!"  
_ "Oh god, _no_ Edward, she's not going to _die._ I would _see_ that, you impossible wretch. And stop gripping your phone so tight, it'll break."

In an empty hallway in Forks High, Edward unclenches his hand.  
A couple hundred miles away, in a Vegas hotel room, Alice frowns minutely, and Jasper draws meditative circles onto the small of her back. (It's a long story, but a James Bond marathon, a dare with Emmett and a chartered Cessna were involved.)

"No," Alice continues, "it's like... Like there's a black hole in my vision, where she used to be. It sucks up her future; it sucks up the future of everyone around her."

There is a pregnant pause, before Edward bites out, "Wait. Stay where you are, okay? I'm coming to you. Something is very wrong."

"What's up?" she chirps.

"Her scent. It's..." He sighs, and the sound is so unlike him, it almost rouses Alice from her comatose langour. "Something's _wrong,_ " he repeats. "Stay put. I'm coming there. We need to figure this out. Together."

Sunlight slants over her, lighting up rainbow trails.  
Jasper flips her over, hands vise-tight along the gaunt curve of her hip, tongue marking a venom-slick trail along a line from her navel to the hem of her thong, and she sinks deeper into the mattress. Silk is nice. So is her husband's tongue. Really, _really_ nice.

"Not going anywhere, brother."

She hangs up, sinks her fingers into the golden spill of Jazz's hair and holds on.

* * *

A/n: not even 300 words. I am a failure, I swear.  
As always, please fucking review. Aren't I polite?

Also, this two updates a day business isn't ever happening again okay? I'm just ashamed of my shitty chapter length.


	3. Friday, Sundown

**Friday, Sundown**

* * *

Bella just broke her truck.

Oh god.

Bella. Just broke. Her _truck._

Or okay, in all fairness, she only broke the gearshift. Which is still, like, _insane_. Because the gearbox is metal. Bella does not break metal things, okay? Metal things break _Bella_.

That's practically a law of the universe. Is the universe _high?!  
_ It's a valid question okay? Because this whole _day_ has been stupid.

Like, higher levels of stupid than what Bella's life normally aspires to. Waking up to her unbelievably perfect boyfriend reeking like a three month old molding fruitbasket was not actually _fun,_ okay? Then, getting into a fight with Charlie about- about- jeez, what had they even been fighting about? Edward? College? God, she can't even remember.

And it's not _like_ her to fight. Bella's a pacifist, all the way through. She didn't even get cranky as a baby. Or so Renèe says anyway; Bella has her suspicions.

Stupid, _stupid_ freaking day.

And then, after yelling about heaven knows what, she'd stormed out, convinced, somehow, that a slab of pie from the diner would be the quickest fix to her problems. Which was when she'd broken her gearshift.  
She groans, long and low, her head thudding to the rim of the steering wheel.

Oh god, how's she going to get to work? Or school?! How's she going to tell Charlie? How's she going to fix the- fix the truck- _Jacob_.

Right.  
Okay.  
She can do this.

Call Jacob. Get truck fixed. Use the college fund to pay for repairs.  
Lists are good, Bella decides. Lists are darn good.

She reaches over the mutilated gearbox, roots around in her bag for the phone and scrolls through her pathetically meager contacts.  
Way to have a social life, Bella.

'Black - Home' lights up in a blue stripe.  
She hits call.

* * *

A/n: haha bella's life is a mess. like mine. also, i realize bella's being incredibly OOC, but roll with it, yeah? review and follow, if you like.


	4. Friday, Nightfall

**Friday, Nightfall**

* * *

Jacob looks good.  
Like, wow, what happened _here_ , mm-mm- _gooood_. Finger lickin' good, even.

So naturally, Bella feels like a total jerk.  
Because Bella has a boyfriend, yeah? A _nice_ , romantic, _caring_ boyfriend who's generally been doing a great job of not ripping her throat out. A boyfriend who's also gone off to Vegas? Because Alice called? With a quick, 'Don't worry, love. I'll be back before you know it'? Who does that? Without even giving a _reason!_

Also, incidentally, a boyfriend who used to smell a whole lot better - the smell had become _worse_ by the time she'd gotten home, like it had sunk thickly into the bed, the carpets, the walls themselves; changing the sheets and airing out the room had done virtually nothing.

Bleach, on the other hand, had begun to look like a very, very viable option.

But then Jacob came, and he smelt. Well. Clean?  
She wanted to say he smelt like sunshine, and cinnamon, and pine resin, because isn't that what they always said in the books? But he just... Smelt clean. He smelt like clean, sweaty teenage boy. Like diesel and engine oil at his fingertips and warm, caramel coffee when he laughed. Bella thought she could breathe him in all day.

"Hey, Bella," he says, grinning hugely as he walks up to the front gate. "What's up?"

"I... Hi Jacob." She digs the toe of her converse into the squelchy, rain-drenched yard, shoving her hands in her pockets. "I- um, kinda-" she jerks an awkward thumb at the cab of the truck, "broke my gearshift."

Jacob's eyebrows begin a slow trek up his forehead.

"You what now?"  
She slouches over to the truck, hops into the seat and picks up the snapped gearshift. He snatches it out of her hand, gaping.  
"Holy hell," he mutters. When he looks back at her, he's shocked and, Bella thinks, pretty darn impressed. "Didn't know you had it in you, Bells."

Bella swings her feet out of the cab, dangling them near the footrest, grinning all kinds of pleased at the new nickname. At this height, leaning her side against the driver's seat, she's got a couple inches on Jacob and the view is really. Um. Good.

Welp.

(She tries to remind herself that he's still- what, fifteen? Sixteen? And she's nearly eighteen and that's illegal pretty much everywhere.)  
(It doesn't work.)

* * *

a/n: you should probably thank teen wolf for all the wolflove i've got going because, really, have you _seen_ that goddamn cast? _un-_ fucking- _real.  
_ as always, review or i'll fucking cut you. i will. _watch me._

also, shoutout to my darling reviewer Holidai! thank you for the love.i need it like oxygen.


	5. Saturday, Dawn

Her bra doesn't fit.

Here's the thing: Bella is not a growing girl anymore, okay?  
Or more accurately, Bella's girls aren't growing anymore.

At the advanced age of seventeen, she's settled at a nice 32B, and she's perfectly alright with that. With the right (La Perla, Alice-purchased) bra, she even sometimes has cleavage.

So after waking up feeling bloated and hot and twitchy - her period was _last. Week._ Can't her body _get with the FREAKING PROGRAM ALREADY? -_ Bella had stumbled into the bathroom, showered and shaved, and then blearily brushed her teeth while the mirror was still fogged up.

The shower had done very little to erase the awful night.  
After Jacob had towed the truck - 'Your brake fluid needs replacing, _jesus_ Bella, what did you do to the fan belt? And it needs a tune up anyway, shall I drop it off Sunday?' - she'd slunk back into the house, and locked herself in her room, and tried to remind herself Edward was definitely, absolutely _**way**_ _better looking get_ _ **ahold of yourself**_ _oh god._

And when she'd turned in for the night, she'd tossed and turned, feverishly hot. She'd turned down the heat, thrown open the solitary window, and desperately missed Edward's lovely, cold skin.

After staggering out of the bath with her bag of toiletries at the butt crack of dawn, she'd gone to her room, fighting off waves of crashing nausea. Jeez- _us._ She couldn't _wait_ to not be human. Vampires had _all_ the luck, seriously.

All in all, pretty shit day so far, yeah?  
And then - _then! -_ after this entire, frustrating and just plain _idiotic_ rigmarole, she'd pulled out a ratty exercise bra (grey, worn, deliciously soft) and it _hadn't. Bloody._ _ **Fit.**_

So, okay, maybe she could forego the bra?

And then nothing else fit. _Nothing.  
_ Her yoga pants ended an inch above her ankle, her loose hoodies pulled too tight under her arms. Her jeans didn't button without hugging her butt in ways that were just _obscene,_ and Bella?

Yeah, Bella was freaking _the hell_ out.  
That was about when the claws happened.

* * *

a/n: sup homies? glad you've been reading, cause we just crossed 1,000 views thank god, or else i would've abandoned this too  
btw if think i'm a whore for the numbers, you would actually be absolutely right, i totally am

review, or i'll kill jacob off in the next chapter, and then what'll you do? sob alone in your corner, that's what.


	6. Saturday, Morning

**Saturday, Morning**

She rushed out of the door the moment she hears a familiar purr of the Volvo's engine. Only, the car drew up a good minute later, coasting to a stop at the front gate with Esme at the wheel.

The claws still peeked out of the tops of her hoodie's sleeves. (Okay, so maybe it was Charlie's hoodie. Bella's stuff didn't _fit her anymore_ , okay? Be nice.) But thank god, _thank god_ , whatever the hell was happening to her, she at least had someone to run to.

She'd dialled Carlisle - after hyperventilating for like, six hundred years - and he'd picked up on the first ring. And she'd said, "Carlisle. Something is very, very wrong with me," wondering why she wasn't freaking out more - because she really _should be_. The claws were _gross_ , all yellow and rough and mean-looking; a dirty, smudged black at the bottom tapering into nasty little scimitar hooks, the colour of urine.

And he'd said, "Stay home, Bella, Esme's coming to get you."

And Esme had. How totally rad of her.

"Hello, Bella."

Her eyes widened minutely when she took in Bella 2.0 - humour; humour was keeping her functionally sane right now - but she hid it well. "Hop in, dear," she sang, unlocking the passenger door. Her smile was lovely. "I hope you weren't waiting too long."

Bella slid in, pulling the seatbelt closed.

"Nah," she said, trying to ignore the growing sense of claustrophobia, the sudden bloom of fruit-gone-bad so heavy in her nostrils. Her legs did't fit right, and she had to pull the lever by the seat to roll it back before she could even _begin_ to breathe. Had the car always been this _small?_

"I heard the car pull up. You should really do something about the engine, Esme. I don't think it's ever been so loud."

Esme hmm'd noncommittally.

Bella stared straight ahead, fixedly, trying not to vomit all over the - very fancy, patent leather covered - dash, and she missed Esme's raised eyebrows, her wrinkled nose.

It never occurred to her that she might smell just as awful to vampires too.

* * *

When they pulled up the house, Carlisle was standing in the driveway.

Rosalie waited a little behind him, sitting on the steps to the porch, Emmett next to her, his head nestled in the curve where her shoulder meets her neck. When Bella stepped out of the car, she'd been frozen to the ground, shocked. The stench was powerful, dizzying, here. Bella was scared, all of a sudden, and inexplicably, instinctively _angry_ , tiny hairs standing up on the back of her neck.

Suddenly, the claws didn't seem so bad.  
Instantly, she hated herself even more.  
What was she _thinking?_ She didn't need _claws!_

Bella saw the rise and fall of Carlisle's chest, the flare of his nostrils as he took in a deep breath. She saw the rapid movement of his lips.

"Oh dear. As I suspected. How fascinating…"

Bella raised a slightly shocked eyebrow. "I can… I can _hear_ you, Carlisle, I'm right _here."  
_ (For context, he was about eight feet away from her. The Cullens' driveway could fit a small house.)

Carlisle's eyes goggled. It was hilarious, and also unsettling as _eff._

 _"_ You can?" he breathed. "My, my."

"Okay," Bella ground out, crossing her hands and glaring. Rosalie was smirking, and if Bella didn't know better, she'd think Emmett was happily asleep. The little tit. "Can someone please tell me what the _heck_ is going on?"

"Eau de wet dog, is what's going on, Bella," Rosalie called out, smirking. "Nice perfume."

"Hon, you stink like a sack of rotting begonias," Bella snarked back, anger bubbling away like hot molten fondue. "Do you really want to go there?"  
Rosalie's eyes had widened, shocked. _Ha! Bitch._

"Rosalie," Carlisle cut in, without turning away from Bella, brow furrowed in thoughtful concern. "Call William Black, will you? Ask him if he'll come to the treaty line. And ask Sam Uley to come along."

* * *

 **A/n:**

You guys have been way too kind in the reviews omg :')  
No, she hasn't phased yet - but yes, she's on her way there.  
I'm glad you like my update speed but it's genuinely making my life miserable, cause I have to keep writing and the end seems nowhere in sight, like wtf this was supposed to be short -_-  
Um, yeah, that's about it (and I would never ever kill Jacob, you guys, I was totally kidding)

review, follow, favourite, all that good stuff. thanks for sticking around for so long, you guys are literally the best thing happening to me right now :$


	7. Saturday, High Noon

**Saturday, High Noon**

By the time the Cullens have convinced the Blacks to meet at the treaty line - because there's a _treaty?_ Apparently? WHAT? Seriously, no one tells her a _goddamn_ thing. What's it going to take before they start being honest with her? Marauding vampires? Oh **wait.** That's already **happened.** Bella's slightly pissy today, is it obvious? - the sun is high, a flat whitish light on a fog-heavy sky.

They gather on one side, pale, preternaturally still vampires, all pretense of humanity erased now.

Billy Black's wheelchair is wheeled in by Sam from the other side, who towers at six foot something, all warm, rippling muscles, thin-pressed lips and a heavy brow.

He's flanked by- by, oh god, is that Embry? When'd he get so _big?_ And by someone else, stockier, broader than either Sam or Embry. Meaner, too. He leers at Bella from his place beside Billy's chair, eyes running up and down like a total fucking _creeper_ and Bella feels her lips curl back over her teeth, a low, furious rumbling building up in the back of her throat.

When his eyes widen, and he steps back, almost on instinct, Bella stops.  
Her hand go up to her throat, clapping tightly around her neck.

Did she… Did she just _growl?_

Holy shit that's so cool.  
… **no!** Oh god, no, that's not- that's _not '_ cool' _-_ okay, maybe it's kinda cool?

It looks pretty neat-o when Edward does it, and Bella would seriously _not_ mind growling powers. That shit's gonna come _way_ handy, she already knows it.

"The reason for this meeting, Dr. Cullen?"  
Billy sounds so… _formal_ , so grave. It jolts Bella out of her scattered musings.  
He sounds like a proper Elder.

Which he is. Right. _Obviously_.

"We think Bella here," Carlisle says, "is going through the Change."  
The capital letter is plain in his tone.

"Not possible," Billy volleys back, though his face is placid.

"Her temperature has risen by six degrees, she shot up three and half inches literally overnight, and, well. No offence, Bella," he inclines his neck at her apologetically, before turning back to Billy, "but her scent has changed completely."

"Huh?" The question is out before Bella can stop herself.  
"Wet dog, darling, didn't I mention that before?" Rosalie murmurs, gleeful. "Oh Edward is _not_ going to be pleased." She sounds like she wants to throw a party.

Something in the vicinity of her chest lurches harshly.  
"That's not an _answer_ ," she grits out.

"Sam," Billy asks, his voice carrying to her easily. "Is this true?"  
"Her scent has changed," he murmurs, though Bella immediately realises this is only for Billy's benefit. Sam must know everyone else can hear him clear as day. "It was clear the moment we arrived. She smells like one of us."

 _One of_ _ **what?!**_ Bella wants to say, but she reins it in, knowing the answers will come.  
And if they don't, she has _claws._

 _Claws.  
_ _Hell yeah._

She'll _make_ the bloody answers come.

And then Embry is giving her a sad little smile, and saying, "You're a werewolf, Bella," and Bella can't remember what breathing means.

* * *

A/n:  
Sorry for the wait - was out of town the entire weekend, which was amazing by the by thanks for asking, I'm not even really that sorry, because eff that.  
Um. Anyway. A bunch of people have been asking whether this will be a were!Bella - it will. Duh. That's literally what the summary says you guys ohmy _god._  
Others have been all "Is it JxB? TELL MEH." and, like, I'd love to, but I'm also super into being an asshole so I'm just going to make you wait; doesn't that sound _fuunnnnnn?_ :D  
Also, I need someone to do a quick grammar/punctuation check before I upload, so, willing Tributes, feel free to volunteer.

That's about it, I adore the heck outta you for reading, feel free to review if you like. (Or if you hate. That is also cool.)


	8. Saturday, Afternoon

**Saturday, Afternoon**

Emily Young's house is intimidatingly nice. Floral linens, and fragrant bowls of dried flower petals, and sunny curtains, and furniture that actually matches. She's like the Native Martha Stewart, and Bella's just. Terrified, a little. Her claws don't seem that great anymore.

(Seriously, though, these fucking claws are giving her emotional whiplash. Also, when did she start swearing so much? …today, probably. *sigh* It's shaping up to be a phenomenally crap weekend.)

She adjusts Charlie's commandeered hoodie, burying her hands deep in the pockets of what used to be her loosest sweats, slouching in her seat at the kitchen table. It's not freaking loose any more, and Bella refuses to discuss her incredibly distressing clothing situation any further.

"You need a new wardrobe, don't you, hon?"

Bella nods miserably, and inhales her fourth muffin for the day. Apparently, she'll need the carbs.

Her head's still spinning from all the information that's been thrown at her.

("We don't age?!"  
"Not as long as we keep phasing."  
"And you can really kill vampires?"  
"Sharp teeth, baby."  
"Neat," Bella had whispered, and Embry had grinned at her from across the backseat of Sam's pickup.  
"You're taking this pretty well, though."  
"Perks of an undead boyfriend," she'd smirked.  
"Thought you'd be pro-vampire then, Swan."  
"They tried to _kill_ me last summer, are you kidding?"  
 **"WHAT?!"** Sam's growl had Bella nearly whimpering.  
"Not the _Cullens_ , jesus," she's snapped. "Other vampires. The Cullens _saved_ me."  
The third - Paul, apparently. Paul Lahote - had snorted in the passenger seat, clearly unimpressed.  
"You have something to say, wolfboy?"  
Paul had shrugged, all casual-like, half-turning towards Bella. "All I'm sayin' is," he said, smirking, "You wouldn't have needed savin' if you hadn't gotten mixed up with the leeches in the first place, little girl."  
"Wow, you- you _dick_ , that's just _great_ , blame the fucking victim, why don't you? Do you tell rape victims it was their fault too?"  
So, yeah. That had gone well.)

Still, the muffins are orgasmic, it's not exactly a _hardship_ to eat half a dozen of 'em. Which is exactly what she then proceeds to do.

"Not huge on shopping?" Emily says, half-smiling.  
"Not even a little," Bella says, around the last bite of her sixth.  
"Let's just get it done, then?"

Bella sighs, rubs the back of her fist into her eye, leaning back in her chair. She feels warm, pleasantly full, even if something about Emily rubs her the wrong way.

"Sure," she shrugs. She has money. And she needs clothes. Raiding Charlie's closet for the rest of the school year isn't very appealing, honestly. How important are college savings anyway?

* * *

A/n: What, do you motherfuckers have something against reviewing? Drop a fucking line, okay? I feel like I'm talking to walls, jesus.  
Thanks for reading and all that, and god bless you, Holidai, you make this whole endeavour worthwhile. Shoutout to lytebryte, leppy99 and trutwilight for being nice to me because I really actually need it.


	9. Saturday, Slantlight

**Saturday, Slantlight**

Apparently, the claws are 'not normal'.

Bella laughs out at this - they're _werewolves_. They kill _vampires_. They're looking for _normal?!_ Bella wants to hug them and pat their adorable, little heads. They may morph into overgrown pups, but _god_. They've no idea what they've got up against them, do they?

But Paul takes one look at them, and turns pale under his golden-brown skin. The effect is ill. He backs into the old elm in Emily's backyard, staring at them wide-eyed, little subvocal snarls tearing out of his throat. He looks at her, then at the claws, then at her.

Ahead of them, a little ways into the wood, Sam and Embry cautiously turn around, and walk to where he stands, their feet moving soundlessly over thick undergrowth.

Embry is the first to speak.  
"Hey Bella?"  
Bella does not look away from Paul. "Yeah, Em?"  
"What are those?"  
"Claws?" She curls her fingers in towards her palm, swiping through the air. "Rawr?" she tries, weakly.  
"Sam? Does- Does that happen? None of us, like, sprouted claws. Don't we like- just- _pfloeey!_ into werewolves?"  
Sam gives him a Look, before glaring at Bella's claws like he wants to commit mass homicide. "Hell if I know."

Bella feels very edified now, and more importantly, very reassured. Sam has such a lovely way with words, really. What a nice fellow.

Then Emily comes out the backdoor, car keys jingling, and orders Bella to get in the Subaru or they 'Won't have any time to shop properly, sweetie, bye Sam! Come on Bella, hurry up dear, oh! Don't break anything boys!', in a bright blur of smiles and long skirts and a cloud of Givenchy perfume.

Emily is terrifying.

* * *

 **A/n:** Haven't posted much this week, so yeah. This is how I apologize. Review, favorite, follow, be nice to me generally. Thanks for reading!


	10. Saturday, Evenfall

**Saturday, Evenfall  
**

"Hi Edward!" Bella chirps into her phone - actually, legitimately _chirps._ "How's Vegas?" She wonders if it's possible to get high on really good malt milkshakes. It sure feels that way.

(Okay so maybe she's actually happy that her claws had… sort of, retracted? About 10 minutes after meeting Emily. Bella never realised how much she loved her nails. Nails are definitely, _definitely_ the best.)

"It was sunny," he drawls, and- _**Was**_ sunny? Oh. He's back. _Yes!_

She settles back happily in her seat, slurping the last of her shake. Emily glances at her, smirking from the driver's seat. Ahead of them, the road is a dark, silvery snake winding into impenetrable fog. Bella thinks it's pretty great metaphor for her life.

The backseat of Emily's car is cluttered with plastic bags - t-shirts with broader shoulders, and jeans two inches wider in the waist but also a gratifying four inches longer. Converses and strappy sandals, two sizes bigger. Bras in 34C, and a single, black leather jacket, because where that would have once looked trashy and awkward, now it looks, well, _just right_. Hel- _lo_ , Goldilocks.

"Where are you, Bella?" he asks, his tone urgent and clipped.  
Bella frowns at that - Alice always knows exactly where she is. "Driving back," she says, "from Port Angeles."  
"With?" What is this, an interrogation?  
"…a friend," she replies cautiously.  
"How far out are you from Forks?" he… almost _snaps_ at her. _The hell?  
_ "About three-ish miles?"  
"Get off the road, will you? Park on the shoulder. We'll meet you in five."  
"Wait, Edward what-"

He hung up on her.  
He. _**Hung up.**_ On her.

 _Fuck_ that.

"Hey Em," she mutters, tossing her phone into the bed of shopping bags on the backseat. "Drive faster? T La Push."  
Bella and Emily are never going to be very good friends, but hell if she doesn't grin sideways and punch it all the way to the Rez.

* * *

 **A/n:** Kinda filler-y, I know, but, like, there's some _shit_ coming up, okay, like seriously, just. Shit.  
Thanks for reading, follow and favourite and review! Kisses from Abu Dhabi come your way :')


	11. Saturday, By Moonlight

**Saturday, By Moonlight**

Fours hours later, Bella ripped Edward's head off.

 _Literally._

* * *

 **But before that**

Bella Swan is an idiot.  
No, she really needs to repeat that.  
 _Isabella Marie Swan_ , she glared at the ground, _you are a Grade-A, Class 1, giant mothereffing_ idiot _._

She should've figured there was a chance she'd run into Jacob, right? Jesus, it's not rocket science. Bella's on the rez, the rez isn't exactly huge - she takes a moment to feel the white guilt - and well. There was a damn good chance.

She should've come up with a _freaking explanation._ Hell, at some point - some point being _Monday_ \- she has to go to _school.  
_ She's grown four inches, a solid cup size and she's pretty sure she has _**abs.**_ The eff is she going to _tell people?!  
_ But had she done that? Nope!

What _had_ she done when she'd discovered her newfound wolfiness?  
She'd snarked at Rosalie, bitched some more at Paul - stolen a couple seconds to admire her cleavage, because _yes_ \- and then gone shopping in Port Ange with a virtual stranger. Bella was a regular Einstein, oh yes she was.

So when she had run into Jacob - or more accurately, when Jacob found her out in Emily's front yard - this happened:

"Hey Bells! Your truck's almost ready- _woah!"  
_ "...hi? Jake? Do I have something on my face?"  
"You- wh- what the _fuck_."  
"Excuse me?!"  
"You're taller."  
"No? I'm wearing heels."  
(Because she totally was _._ She could walk in _heels._ Seriously, fuck, she was never taking them off. The view five feet nine inches off the ground was, like, _neat._ )  
"You're still _taller._ And- and- just. Um. Cur- curvier? Am I allowed to say- Is that- Is that okay- Cause you are! Um."

"Oh fuck, I'm just going to. Um. Go now."  
"You do that, Jakey."

And then, when he'd scampered off in the direction he'd come, she'd sunk to her knees in Emily's yard, screamed silently, and then called herself a giant, fucking idiot. She was taller. And curvier. And if Jacob had noticed it in about three seconds...

Then, for the second time that day, Edward called.

* * *

 **Fulham Rd.  
** **Forks, WA**

 **At the treaty border**

"What are you doing _here_ , Bella?!" Edward snarled. "I _expressly_ told you to meet me at the highway!"  
"Oh woah hey mister," Bella bristled, as she got out of Sam's borrowed pickup, letting it idle on her side of the treaty line. (She had 'her side' now. Because she was a werewolf. Or on her way to becoming one. _Goody_.) "You aren't the boss of me. I have a life and shit, you know," she bit out, slamming the cab door closed for emphasis.

(No but why was she talking like this? To _**Edward?!**_ This made zero sense. Her entire life had stopped making sense on Friday. Bella wasn't even trying anymore. Her brain _hurt_.)  
(Her nose also hurt, because Edward did _not_ smell any better, no _sirree,_ he did _not._ )

"I'm sure you do, but Bella. Have you even told Charlie where you are?!"  
"Billy's made excuses for me, Edward. Jesus, what kind of a _daughter_ do you think I am?!"

Edward is quiet.  
Bella sighs. Sometimes, knowing your better half so well is tiresome.

"Okay, spill. What's wrong?"  
"He- Charlie, that is- He may not be your father."  
"…. _what._ "

Edward mustn't have realised that his girlfriend had fucking _homicidal urges_ now, now that she could apparently fursplode into a giant, vampire-killing machine, - not she'd done any _actual_ fursploding so far, what a bore - because he ploughed on irreverently.

"Your mother, Renèe. It's possible she had," he hesitates, "ah, _relations_ with someone on the reservation. That's the only way you could've inherited the genes for…" he waves a hand in her general direction, not quite looking right at her, "you know. Werewolfing."

He misses the way her eyes flash red.

"Are you saying my mother was fucking someone behind my father's back?"  
"I wouldn't put it quite tha- _Bella!"_

* * *

About forty seconds later, Edward's head lay some eight yards away from his body, blinking tiredly, and wondering when his body would crawl back to him.

Bella phased back, buck-naked, hair tangled, body smeared in mud and road dust, and spat violently to the side, the taste of venom and vampire stinking up her mouth. And when she took a long, gaping look at her decapitated boyfriend, she fell down on her ass.

"Now, Bella," Edward's head said from across the road, like a bored middle school teacher. (The head was talking. Ohmygod, the head was _talking_. The head _she'd ripped off_ _ **with her teeth WAS TALKING.**_ ) "Was that really necessary?"

So Bella did what any normal person would do.  
She fainted.

* * *

 **A/n  
** On the brightside, here's an update.  
Review, follow and favourite, dudebros.


	12. Sunday, Predawn

_A quick note for my not-new readers:  
If you've been following this story since it began, you might've read that chapter where Jessica intervenes. It's been removed, and the storyline has been completely changed since. You may want to revisit the last chapter to get a handle on things again. And if you wanna skip that, here's a summary to smooth the transition out:_

* * *

 _THE STORY SO FAR_

Once upon a time, in a little town in 'Murica, there lived a clumsy girl, her long-suffering father and an assortment of fairytale creatures.

This included vampires that sparkled, fluffy shapeshifters and, unbeknownst to our unhappy cast of characters, a band of renegade Cornish pixies. (The pixies are completely irrelevant to the story, so who the fuck cares? No one, that's who.)

But one fine day (it wasn't a fine day, it was _never_ a fine day, Bella hadn't seen the sun in _years_ , Jesus), our heroine turns out to be a werewolf. This is a problem, mostly for her vampire boyfriend and his undead coven. (Family! They're a family! _Sure._ )

Luckily, the local pack of shifters decides to adopt her, even if she had freaky claws and red eyes and probably isn't even a regular shifter. (Here's a hint: She isn't.)

And now-

* * *

 **Sunday, Predawn**

You know what really sucks about being a werewolf?

You can't even fucking faint _properly_ , that's what.

If this was a movie - hey, isn't that a song? _Hm-mm, na-na, to me-ee like, you would, you would, if this was a movie,_ oh God Taylor Swift, she's humming Taylor Swift while bare-ass naked on the main road in and out of the rez, what is she _doing_.

No but really, here's the thing - if this was a movie, Bella'd be picked up by a hot guy - she resolutely ignores the image her brain helpfully provides of Jacob Black, bent over her truck, the mist making his t-shirt cling damply to his pecs _oh yum_ \- and said hot guy would stroke her hair until she came to, with a breathy little gasp, and they'd gaze into each other's eyes. It could've all been very Snow White (minus the somnophiliac prince, because hello. _Not_ Bella's thing.) but does that happen?

Nope.

No, Bella has to get up, walk to the bed of her Chevy, and firmly hitch an old blanket Charlie had stashed under the passenger seat last winter, under her armpits, the hem brushing the tops of her knees. Her breath puffs in little white clouds in the winter air.

Then she turns to Edward, who's- Oh.

 _Ew._

His body and his head have apparently been recently reunited, because the flesh around his neck is still… _knitting itself together._ She realizes that as a human it would've looked seamless, beautiful even, but _now_ she can see with microscopic clarity; the way the clear venom oozes along the torn marble of Edward's skin, bubbling and frothing before it melds, like thick, sludgy whitewash.

 _Gross._

The word is out before she can stop herself, and she claps a horrified hand to her mouth. Edward half-smiles as he stands up, healed, and it's bitter and harsh and not _at all_ like him, and Bella feels awful, goodness, _so_ awful. He can't help the way he is. She's- she's being, like, a _speciesist_. What the heck, she didn't even know that could be a thing.

"Sorry!" she says, sick at herself.

"It's alright. You're not," he waves a hand at her, " _supposed_ to like us. It's... genetic, I suppose. A defense mechanism."

"I don't need to be defended from you!" and after a pause, "Do I?"

" _No_ , Bella. We would never hurt you, but well." He sighs, almost imperceptibly. "Werewolves and vampires. Natural enemies, and all that." He shrugs, and looks at her a little sadly. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

School. Crap.

"Yeah," she murmurs, cinching the towel tighter, and digging her toes into the worn gravel of the road.

He smiles, and Bella thinks there's something terribly old about it, terribly regretful, before it's gone in a flash, replaced by his crooked, adorable grin, and Bella's heart thumps _hard_ at that, at that smile, at _her_ smile, and she thinks, werewolf or not, a part of her is always going to love that smile.

He slides into the Volvo, u-turns in an impossibly tight arc and then he's gone.

That's when she realizes she's already thinking about Edward in the past tense. Her chest draws in tight, breathless. The claws _snick!_ out, and dig into her palms and little pinpricks of blood well out. They look like tar in the fading moonlight. Bella is glad for the distraction over the sound of her breaking heart.

* * *

 **A/n:**

Everyone is stupid, and everything hurts.  
Also, look, boy! Look! An update! *dangles shiny Macbook in front of you*  
Review, follow, you know how it goes.


	13. Sunday, Brightmorn

**Sunday, Brightmorn**

And then she drives back to Emily's because, apparently, there are things nobody's found necessary to tell her. **_Again._** Once this is all over with, Bella's going to fucking _end_ them. She's, like, 200% **_done_** with this supernatural bullshit.

Seriously? She had to find out that moon-howling was a genetic specialty of the Natives in town from their _sworn fucking **enemy?**_

 _Werewolves_ , jesus.

Doesn't anyone understand that keeping shit from Bella _gets people **dead?!**_ (or nearly dead, whatever, the point holds dammit). Next they'll have renegade pixies on their hands and _then_ what'll they do?

* * *

"Hold the _fuck up._ This is a Native thing? This werewolf thing?"  
"Yes. In our... stories," he says, as though settling on the word with some hesitance, "our ancestors would shift and defend the tribe against the-"

"-Cold Ones? That's _real?!"  
_ "You know the stories?!" he whisper-shouts, eyes bulging. "How the _hell_ do you know the stories?" She can hear the 'you fucking paleface bitch' that he carefully bites down.

"Okay, first off," she snaps, "don't growl at me, it has like _zero_ effect. And, also, that's my business, so butt out, dude."

His eyebrows draw up together, cold, dark, furious.  
" _Tell me the truth."_

Sam looks at her expectantly, across the dining table, like growling super intensely will force the truth out of her. Because.  
Like.

Hell na, bitch.

She isn't getting Jacob in trouble for being a stupid teenage boy and trying to impress her with 'ghost stories' on the beach forty thousand years ago, jeez, what kind of a dick would that make her?

"Um," she says, because eloquence is totally her thing today. "No."

Sam's eyes bulge out, shocked.

"Okay, _what,_ Sam?"

"You... You!" he splutters, accusatory and pissed off. Emily chooses this extremely opportune moment to walk - nay, to fucking _glide_ \- into the kitchen. The warm lighting makes them look all _kinds_ of glamorous together. Like bronzed Amazonian gods. Bella tries not to cringe at how needy and jealous and generally pathetic the inside of her head sounds, and pulls the borrowed dressing-gown tighter around herself.

Emily places a hand on Sam's shoulder, and looks at her steadily. Sam visibly calms down. It's a bit creepy, actually, that. Four seconds ago, he had looked like he'd prefer her heart located outside her chest.

"That was an Alpha command," Emily said. "It forces obedience from the wolves in Sam's pack. It should've worked on you. Considering your, you know, wolf... ness."

"Um. Okay. Can I just point out how incredibly _creepy_ that is? That's, like, _mindraping_ others into submission. What the **fuck** Sam?!"

He averts his eyes, but Bella's working herself into a proper rant here.

"And you!" She looks up at Emily. "You're okay with this?! Embry's sixteen! _Sixteen!_ And your bloody fiancée can force him to do whatever the hell he wants and you're a-okay with it?! How dare you! How _**dare**_ you."

"Bella! Sam would _never-_ "

"He just _did._ He **_just_** tried to force the truth out of me." Her voice drops. "Do not lie to me, Young."

Emily's eyes look wet; Bella couldn't give a smaller fuck.

"And thank god, Sam, _thank god_ your fucking ' _Alpha command'_ ," she throws up finger quotes, "didn't work on me. I am a _person._ I am **not** your toy. I have my own mind, I have the _right_ to privacy, so you know what? _Fuck_ **_you,_** and fuck your werewolf lore. I'll figure out how to deal the next time I phase."

She gets up, kicking back her chair violently. It crashes, and splinters right down the middle, and falls in two split halves, like a cracked eggshell. She storms out the front door and onto the lawn, but then Sam's running to stop her, grabbing her by the wrist and he's saying-

"The next time? **_Next time_?** You've already phased?!"

-and then a big grey wolf is butting Sam's hand away, but gently, gently, and rubbing his side into Bella's, soft and warm and it just feels _good_ , so good, so right, and the wolf yips at Sam in warning - Sam looks _heartbroken_ \- and Bella's fingers are tangling in the wolf's fur and it feels seventeen hundred kinds of nice, like hearth and home and brother.

Then Sam says, "Embry?" like a lost little pup, and Bella didn't know a voice could be _so_ _ **sad**_ , and the wolf - _Embry?_ Good heavens, this is _Embry?_ \- whines and looks away and Sam's shoulders… just. Drop.

"She isn't _like_ us, Em," he whispers urgently, but Embry still won't meet his gaze. "She isn't what we are. There's no pack link. You saw what Paul saw. _You saw her eyes._ "

Sam sounds scared and lonely and desperate - Bella feels guilty and she _doesn't even know_ **_why._**

"She isn't _like_ us!"

Embry growls - _growls!_ \- at Sam, curling his massive (seriously, what the fuck, Arabian horses are this big. Wolves are **not**.) body around Bella's, protectively.

And then Sam _explodes -_ there's no other word for it - and there's great black wolf where he stood, _jesus christ Bella's transformation was_ _ **nothing**_ _like this_ , and Bella can _hear_ Embry saying - thinking? - to Sam, "I choose her, I choose her!" and his voice sounds like laughter and freedom and Bella sinks to her knees and hugs his shaggy neck and he butts his big, warm nose against her shoulder, but, _Sam,_ Sam is thought-saying, "No, no, stay, Embry, _stay_ ," and Bella can feel how he feels too, like a limb was snatched from under him, torn and bleeding at the stump, and she hugs Embry tighter.

* * *

Two hours later, they're dressed - Embry is wearing shorts, which is about as 'dressed' as he gets, but hey, Bella has eyes. She isn't complaining - lying side by side on First Beach.

The amount of sand that going to get in her hair is not, _**not,**_ funny.

" _Why_?" she says, and she's so glad Embry understands.

"Because you defended me. You cared about me. Not the territory, not the tradition. You care about people. So. Yeah."

He doesn't say anything for a while, but Bella can almost hear him putting his words together. When he starts talking, he sounds careworn, tired.

"Because, Sam, you know. He thinks of _this_ ," and Embry spits it like an expletive, "like some kind of sacred fucking mission, you know? It's just- All of the stories, the old stories, he wants to _**be**_ like that. Like some kind of warrior-god bullshit." The way Embry snorts makes it clear exactly what he thinks of Sam's ambition.

There is a weighted pause before he speaks again.

"Do you know I was on the honor roll?"

"No," Bella breathes.

"Yeah," he says, and chuckles, a bitter, ugly sound. "Was thinkin' of Stanford, you know, or MIT. They've got a good engineering program. Jacob too. Me an' Jake, off to conquer the east coast." He huffs through his nose, short and angry. "And then I turn into a fuckin' overgrown dog, and become his an' Emily's personal anti-bloodsucker bitch.

"So that's fucked."

"So, you know, fuck 'im. And fuck her, while we're at it. I choose you, goddamit. S'far as I'm concerned, you're the sanest person in this joint, even if you _are_ dating a corpse." He says this softly, like a confession, and the quiet takes the edge off his rough words. He shifts a little, bumps his sandy shoulder against hers. "I choose you, Bella Swan."

That's kinda too hard to process, that this sixteen year old kid, with freaky superpowers that she doesn't even know about probably, has decided to throw in his lot with hers. It's pretty much terrifying actually, so Bella does what she always does. Fold it over and over, until it's tiny and bursting at the seams, and shove it way, _**way**_ deep into her head where she won't have to think about it until she suffers her inevitable nervous breakdown.

She good at shit like that.  
Bella has superpowers too, goddamit.  
Superpowers of repression.

Heck yeah, go Team Bells.

And that's when Bella realises what's been nagging her for hours, and she doesn't really turn to Embry, but she knows he's listening when she says, "What did Sam mean about 'seeing my eyes'?"

And Embry doesn't say anything for a while, and then he _does_ , and he says, "You didn't know?" incredulously.

Bella does look at him now, propping herself up on an elbow, a confused little notch working its way between her brows. "Know what?"

"Your _eyes_ , Bella. Remember when you growled at Paul? When we'd met with the Cullens at the border? Which, like, so rad, I totally second that, but your eyes? They turned _red_."

Well. _Crap._

* * *

 **A/n:  
** I know, _I know. So much angst. So much trauma. Why.  
_ Like, do y'all even understand how fucked up the werewolf experience is? It is, okay. I am **_trying_** to fix it, so excuse you.

Also, yay, update, whooooooooooooooo *eats an entire box of poptarts and watches Step Up to feel things*


	14. Sunday, Morningtide

**Sunday, Brightmorn**

When the sun is a pale golden half-coin, resting at the edge of the sea, Embry flicks a shower of sticky sand over her, grins like a little kid and says, "Want some wolf lessons?"

So Bella grins, and kicks up the sand a solid six feet before running to the water, snorting and feeling unbearably young.

And there's a warm, wet nose at the small of her back, and she's toppling into the water, spluttering and laughing and pushing Embry and saying, "Look away, Fido," before stripping out of her sodden clothes, and letting the itch take over her skin. The wereskin slides over her like - she wants to say silk? But not really. It's... comfortable. Like the feeling of slipping on an old sweater. Or the smell of fresh laundry. Not new, or terribly exciting.

Just familiar. Like home.

And she nips Embry's ear, and splashes seawater and realizes the cold water is _**lovely**_ to swim in, oh god so _good._

( _What if someone sees us?!  
_ _Bella!_ he laughs. _Listen.  
_ So she listens. And realizes - they'd hear anyone coming for _miles._ )

And-

( _Take a bunch of Tylenol when you go to school the first day. Like, eight or something.  
_ _Want me dead so soon, Em?  
_ _Shut up, girlie. The real world's_ _ **loud**_ _, okay? You'll have a nightmare of a headache without.  
_ _Is it always like that?  
_ _Nah. You'll- you know- acclammy-whatzit later.  
_ _Acclimatize?  
_ _Yahtzee, nerd.)_

And-

( _If I'm not_ _ **your**_ _kinda werewolf, but I'm not human either, and I've got, like, werewolf body plus vampire eyes happening, what does that_ make me _?  
_ She begins to hyperventilate only a little bit, because it's lot to take in, you know?  
 _Hey, hey,_ _ **breathe**_ _, idiot. We'll figure it out.)_

And-

( _What's the leech gotta say bout this?  
_ She shoves into his furry shoulder for the slur and then replies, _He's kinda, you know, ambivalent about the whole thing, really.  
_ _Ambiva- Jesus, what are you, a walking SAT Prep?  
_ _Not my fault you don't read, you philistine.  
_ _Eh. You like 'em dumb. Dontcha Bella?_ He waggles a shaggy, lupine eyebrow, and lolls out his tongue, pink and stupid.  
So Bella dunks his head in the water because _that's a thing she can_ _ **do**_ _now._ She can manhandle _six foot threes_ of solid, _hulking_ muscle. This is the best thing. **_Ever._** )

And when they're exhausted, they phase to human, find their clothes and trudge back to the shoreline, sodden and dripping and laughing and falling into each other.

So of course, _of course_ , because Bella has the absolutely _shittiest_ luck in the **_history_** of shit luck, it's when they're both wet and giggling and curled around each other for warmth, that Jacob runs into them.

* * *

 **A/n:** *insert appropriately maniacal laughter here*

A couple of quick responses to my wonderful, wonderful, beautiful reviewers who make all of this mindblowing and happy and generally excellent:  
 **sarah88:** Hello friend. I have to hold down a job and keep my flat habitable. I apologize for the length of my chapters.  
 **WolfLover:** I also love wolves, but I prefer them fictional. I am glad I made you laugh.  
 **Holidai:** Hey! How you been? Your reviews are my favourite because you are my oldest and nicest reviewer and just. hi. thanks for reviewing. you have a lovely soul.  
Also, bro, there totally was a continuity error with the pick up, but. Just. I could not be bothered to change it later, ja feel me?  
 **garose35:** *mad blushin* Thank you for enjoying this train wreck.  
 **KSave:** Tcchhhhhhh 'imprints'! More proof Meyer is a complete sociopath with no understanding of how healthy relationships function. That woman, my god. I will, however, endeavour to keep it interesting.  
 **LadyLetters:** This is dark because I had an unhealthy childhood, but, you know. Yay? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Glad you like what you see, hun.


	15. Sunday, Three Hours Later

**Sunday, Three Hours Later**

* * *

 **12:08 pm**

Six hours later, Jacob Black becomes the fourth werewolf of La Push.

Sam gets to him first.

* * *

 **1:13 pm**

When Bella goes over to the Blacks' to get her truck, - and also, hopefully, you know, talk some goddamn _**sense**_ into the boy, before Sam sends him haring off to kill, like, _undead supervillain_ s, seriously what the fuck, this whole thing should be a fucking manga - there's a rickety slam of the screen door out back. Jacob storms out of the house, his skin gleaming under a fine sheen of sweat until it trails into the elastic band of his shorts.

Bella wonders how often she's going to end up seeing Jacob's back.  
Pretty often, probably.

She's pretty sure Sam hates her, right? For, like, 'stealing' Embry or whatever? Jacob probably hates her by extension or something.

Fuck the pack mind, honestly.

* * *

 **1:52 pm**

"Wanna go hit things?"  
Bella has never loved Embry more.

* * *

 **4:39 pm**

"Okay. That's it." Charlie crosses his arms, his face working into a frankly terrifying expression, arms folded over his chest like a fucking executioner, sweet baby Jesus. Bella tends to forget her father's a cop, but _wow._ She isn't about to make _**that**_ mistake anytime soon.

"I've been looking away from all the- the-" he shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, tiredly, "the _stuff_ happening in this town, the 'animal attacks', and the giant tracks in the forest, and the Cullens being… _Cullen-ish_ ," he flaps his hand impatiently, "and the Rangers finding elk drained of blood every couple weeks but does everyone think I'm _**stupid?!**_ "

Well, _woah,_ Dad.

"And then there's my daughter, who seems to be smack in the middle everytime something goes on!"

"Sit down," he says, pointing an angry finger at the couch, and _glaring.  
_ Bella sits.  
"Explain."  
Bella hesitates.

"Just tell me, Bella." Now he just sounds tired. God, she's a terrible daughter. Terrible, horrible, awful, no-good, all those crappy things. She's put him through so much shit, and he doesn't even know _**why**_ _._

 _"_ I don't care how crazy it sounds, kid. Just… Just tell me."

* * *

 **6:28 pm**

It's a bit crazier than he expects.

* * *

 _(At least he only flinches a_ little _when she shows him the fang-claw-bloodred-eye combo. That's kind of a plus, right?)_

 _(He swears a whole fucking lot when she tells him about the James thing though. That feels kind of nice. Very..._ dad _-like.)_

* * *

 **9:37 pm**

"What does your mum say about all this anyway?"  
"She doesn't know." Embry's voice is clipped, brusque.  
Bella gapes.  
"Why haven't you told your mother, you _idiot_ child?!"  
"I- I _can_?"

Embry looks up her hesitantly, where she's sitting on the cooling hood of her truck, like he doesn't dare to hope. Bella's heart breaks for him.

"Can you tell her? _Yeah_ , kid. Course you can."  
Embry murmurs "Who you callin' 'kid', shorty?" but it comes out soft and grateful and probably not as snarky as he'd hoped at all. Bella smacks the back of his head anyway, and when he laughs, she knows they're back to being, you know, _them_. It feels better than she would've thought possible.

Far in the distance, in the moonlit woods, a wolf howls, mournful.

* * *

 **11:42 pm**

"What do I do tomorrow, Em?"

Embry tucks his arm around Bella tighter. The mattress gives under their combined weight, the quilt heavy around them. She leans into him a little more, and he slumps back against the headboard, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars scattered across her bedroom's ceiling.

She wonders if this is what it's like to have a brother.

"Don't go."  
He says it so softly, she almost doesn't hear it.  
"Hm?" she asks, her voice heavy with almost-sleep.

"Don't go to school. Disappear for a month, let the Chief tell everyone you've gone to Phoenix or something. There'll be fewer questions if you come back looking, you know. Like _this_ , after a month."

"Yeah, but…" She rubs the back of her hand against her eyes. "What do I do for a whole _month_?"

Embry is quiet for a while, but it's a charged kind of quiet, like he's putting together the words he needs. And then when he speaks again, his voice is low, and old, and not sixteen years old at all.

"Anything you want, Bella. Anywhere you want. You deserve a break from this shitstorm."  
She snorts quietly, but... It doesn't sound half-bad actually. The quiet lengthens, and Bella finally says, "What about you?"

"I'll stay here." The thumb of his hand that rests along her back rubs in warm little circles around the bare curve of her shoulder. "Keep an eye on things."

He means Jake, she knows.  
She remembers something Embry had mentioned yesterday, about him and Jake and Quil, about how they used to be best friends. Three musketeers. That kinda thing.

"Does Quil know? About the pack?"  
He looks startled. "No," he replies, cautiously. "He thinks we run drugs or something."  
Bella sharply raises an eyebrow, and pokes at a bulging deltoid. "He has good reason to," she points out archly.

Embry scoffs, and Bella waits for a response. When she realizes there is none forthcoming, she rolls her eyes and smacks the back of his head for the sixty-fifth time today.

"Talk to your friend, stupid. Tell him what's up."  
Embry's neck snaps to look at her so fast, she winces.

"Dude," he breathes. "Seriously? I can tell mom _and_ Quil?"  
"Dude," she says, mock-grave. "Seriously."

He grins, squeezes her, and then falls characteristically quiet.

"You gonna go then?" he asks, after a lengthy pause.  
And she knows, in that instant, that she's leaving this town.  
If only for a while.

* * *

 **A/n:  
** **Holidai:** I promise I don't actually hate Jacob he's my favourite but. Ah, plots. A cruel mistress.  
 **em:** We'll get to Emily, I promise. We'll get to them _all_. Eventually. *cackles*  
 **TiffaniW:** Hi. How ya doin? I like girls with claws.

Roll with me here, sister - I promise there ain't no kanimas or wolfsbane. Here's the problem: Stephenie Meyer's mythology is too fucking prettied up for me to stomach, ja feel me? _Sparkly_ motherfuckin' vampires, christ. It's a goddamn insult, is what it is. I'm going make this little Hellmouth man up, or die trying.

Strap in, kick back, get with it.

* * *

Review and follow! Updates are weekly-ish.


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